


A Little Neighborly Advice

by My_Alter_Ego



Series: Love or Lust [3]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Distrust, Ex-Cons, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, gem heist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 03:31:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16339010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Alter_Ego/pseuds/My_Alter_Ego
Summary: This short fiction is based on the episode “Neighborhood Watch.” Although it was never one of my favorites, I do love Joe Manganiello. So, I changed the plot a bit to make him a lovable good guy. Of course, Peter was not happy with my transformation.





	A Little Neighborly Advice

From time to time, Neal Caffrey liked to parse the real meaning of the sobriquet, “con man.” Most people usually think that it is a shortened version for the term, “confidence man,” meaning a despicable cad who works his charming and deceitful magic to gain his mark’s confidence. Well, that was certainly true, but it went two ways. The criminal fiend also had to be confident of his own skills to ferret out a mark’s attributes, such as their likes, dislikes, habits, and characteristics. You had to recognize their strengths and weaknesses, and eventually discover their Achilles Heel. If you could do all that, then you could accurately predict how the mark would react in any situation, and exploiting them became a piece of cake. So, by Neal’s reasoning, con men were like the profilers who worked at the FBI.

Neal had begun profiling Peter Burke at the onset of their three year chase around the globe. However, now that he was tethered to the FBI agent, it was much easier to add to that sketch since it was more up close and personal. Much to Neal’s chagrin, they practically lived out of each other’s pockets.

Peter actually personified the term, “straight arrow.” He played by the rules and expected others to follow his example. For him, coloring outside the lines was never condoned. He was intelligent and tenacious, and although his work ethic was admirable, to Neal’s way of thinking, it was a bit all-consuming at times. Did Peter even realize the meaning of “having fun” just for the hell of it? Without meaning to, Peter sometimes rained on people’s parades—especially Neal’s when the con man was thinking outside the box to solve a crime. Sometimes, the poor plodding agent even had to live with the guilt of forgetting his wife’s birthday or their anniversary, or for other smaller infractions like not picking up the dry cleaning on his way home.

However, the most valuable knowledge that Neal had gleaned the very first week of his FBI servitude was becoming aware of Peter’s Achilles Heel. Her name was Elizabeth Burke, and Neal was very sure that the strong bond of love and affection was the real deal. If El’s safety was ever in jeopardy, Peter immediately transformed into Shrek, the avenging ogre, hell-bent on rescuing his beloved Fiona. Sometimes, Neal wondered what it would be like to have someone that devoted to you. He once thought that he had found that karma with Kate, but doubts still niggled at the back of his mind months after her death.

Even though the felon on parole remained unreformed and was still a con artist at heart, he had standards—lines he would never cross. Neal would never exploit Elizabeth Burke to further his own agenda. He actually liked the pretty lady who had opened her door to him the very next day after he had been released from prison. She seemed to like him as well, and definitely had her blinders off, accepting him for who he was while Peter kept doggedly trying to change him for the better.

So, with his perceptive grasp on the husband/wife dynamic, Neal was not surprised when one day Peter suddenly tabled other matters on his plate to investigate El’s claim that a new neighbor was hinky and planning some stupendous heist. It didn’t help matters that a very paranoid little bald man kept egging her on, so Neal found himself suddenly dragged into the intrigue.

For a brief moment, Neal was El’s knight in shining armor as he talked her through picking a lock while he perched outside that neighbor’s upstairs window. Peter was definitely not pleased—what a spoil sport! El, however, was far from contrite regarding her snooping in her neighbor’s home. She excitedly told her angry husband about seeing an illegal lock pick set as well as professional telephone repair equipment and a corresponding repairman’s uniform. Neal felt vindicated and couldn’t help snarking, “Well, there goes the neighborhood!”

As expected, Peter was now on high alert. Ever loyal and persistent Jones and Diana finally managed to unearth some hard, raw facts regarding the new neighbor, Ben Ryan. The man was on parole after doing four years for armed burglary. His wife, Rebecca, was an exotic dancer at a downtown strip club. Well, this was getting better and better, much to Neal’s delight. Peter’s sacrosanct little world was now like a perfect little apple that suddenly had a worm lurking inside.

Of course, Peter didn’t intend to sit on his hands with what he considered to be imminent danger just doors away. He needed to be proactive. However, to put it more accurately, he needed Neal as Nick Halden to be proactive in an attempt to find out what nefarious plan was in the works. By pulling a few professional strings with other law enforcement agencies, Ben Ryan’s parole check-in time was now known. Nick would be there, too, ostensibly meeting with his own keeper. The con man’s mission was to strike up and foster a connection between himself and Ryan—felon-to-felon. Easy-peasy; everybody liked and trusted Neal when he played his part in any drama.

The two parolees certainly looked like a mismatched set as they struck up an impromptu conversation while strolling down the street to a neighborhood bar advertising its gaudy peep show of tits and ass. Ryan was a strong, hulking 6’5” with a scruffy beard and brooding eyes. Neal’s Nick Halden looked like he could have been a young clean-cut grad student going for the grunge look with his worn jeans and baseball cap. They shared a drink, and Ryan told Nick that his old cellmate managed this place and Ryan’s wife had once worked here as a dancer.

“This is the only place where I feel comfortable now,” the tall man claimed. “When I’m out there in the real world, it’s kind of intimidating because I feel like someone’s always looking over my shoulder just waiting for me to screw up.”

“I hear you loud and clear,” Nick answered. “It’s nice to have a little safe haven away from prying eyes, but I’m not there yet,” he added as he pulled up his pant leg and exposed the tracking anklet.

“Yeah, that must be a real bitch,” the ex-felon agreed.

Ryan went on to say that both he and his wife intended to turn the page and put down roots. At present, he was working as a house painter, and his spouse, Rebecca, had retired from exotic dancing and was searching the want ads for a new career.

“I almost got married once,” Nick told his new friend wistfully, “so I understand about wanting to put down roots. But it wasn’t meant to be. Kate was killed in an explosion and all my hopes and dreams of a new future died with her that day.”

“Man, that’s rough,” Ryan commiserated. “How long ago did this happen?”

“A little over a year ago,” Neal admitted.

Ryan suddenly looked sincere. “I’m sure your lovely lady would want you to always remember her, but maybe she’d also want you to get on with your life and be happy. You should stop by the house and meet Rebecca. Maybe she can fix you up with one of her friends so that you can get back out there. How about dinner tomorrow night at our place?”

Neal was suddenly touched by the man’s compassion. Maybe this whole heist thing was an imaginary tempest in a teapot that had been blown way out of proportion. Perhaps Peter would just have to get used to having an ex-felon and his ex-stripper wife as neighbors, and that thought made Neal smile and accept the invitation. Anymore conversation was interrupted when Ryan took a call and hastily left after writing down a number on a scrap piece of paper. Neal was nothing if not innovative, and utilized a dancer’s borrowed eye shadow to rub the pad of paper to expose that same number. It went into his pocket until he met Peter and El for a meal that night.

“You got this by using a pole dancer’s eye shadow?” Peter said with a quirked brow.

Neal responded drolly, “Well, when you do a rubbing at a strip club, your options are limited.”

Not to be out done, Peter quipped, “Oh, I’m tempted to make a ‘rubbing at a strip club’ joke. You must have been in your comfort zone, Buster. Those kinds of women are right up your alley, and they always have been your preferred choice of companion.”

Neal suddenly froze with his dessert fork halfway to his mouth. Elizabeth was aghast and embarrassed by her husband’s lack of tact, and watched helplessly as Neal’s eyes immediately shuttered and he went very quiet. Peter was oblivious and continued prattling on about tracing the telephone number to get a handle on what it could mean. He never noticed Neal’s change in demeanor. Tunnel vision personified, El thought to herself, and her heart ached for Neal, who pleaded fatigue and quickly walked out the door.

“What’s suddenly eating him?” Peter mumbled. “Sometimes he’s as moody and sulky as a teenage girl.”

“Do you really not know what you just said, Peter?” Elizabeth demanded. “Please tell me that it wasn’t intentional to trample all over Neal’s raw feelings concerning Kate. You denigrated her memory and practically called her a floozy.”

Peter was flummoxed. “That’s not what I meant at all. I just meant that he was a real playboy all those years ago when I was chasing him around the world. He always had some beautiful, lusty woman hanging on his arm, and I also happen to know that he spent his nights in many different beds. The Bureau had intense surveillance in play during those days, so that’s a fact, not conjecture.”

“Peter,” Elizabeth said tiredly, “are you ever going to let things go and stop beating Neal over the head with every one of his past actions? Can’t you just try to accept who he is now?”

“Well, I’m not sure exactly who he is right now. If I let my guard down for even a minute, my gut tells me that he’s plotting some caper on the side. So I can’t exactly label him a boy scout, now can I?” Peter said in his own defense.

“I’m sure that you know what a self-fulfilling prophecy is, Peter,” El retaliated. “If you keep telling someone ‘who’ and ‘what’ you think they are long enough, they’ll start to really believe that about themselves. As long as you consider Neal to be a criminal, that’s exactly what he’ll think he is, so what’s the incentive to change? Positive reinforcement can go a long way, Peter. Give that some thought!” El finished her tirade as she began to clear the dishes. Peter now knew he was in the dog house with Satchmo.

~~~~~~~~~~

Neal intentionally came into the office a half hour late the next morning just to piss Peter off. What was his handler going to do about that—give him a time-out? Instead, Peter looked smug as he glanced around the conference table at Diana, Jones, and his CI.

“Earlier this morning, our technical drones made me aware that the telephone number that Neal managed to snag is for a very swanky hotel in Midtown, the exact same place where Ben Ryan has been painting recently. The hotel is supposed to be the venue later in the week for a gem convention, and I’ve been told by the manager that there is going to be over seven million dollars’ worth of rare stones in their vault the night before the event. I think Ryan has been casing the place and knows the vault’s exact location. I also think he’s planning to pose as a telephone repairman and short-circuit the alarm so that the security company doesn’t get an alert when he raids it.”

Heads around the table were nodding, and only Neal chose to look disinterested—again, an attempt to be petulant and annoy Peter.

“Neal!” Peter barked sharply.

“What?” the con man asked. “I’m listening to your assumptions.”

“Okay, then tell me your opinion on this,” Peter challenged. “That vault is too big for one man to tackle all by himself. Did you get a feeling that our criminal may be getting some help somewhere along the line?”

Neal shrugged. “Ryan did happen to mention that a former cellmate runs that bar that I told you about earlier. Maybe he’s supposed to be an accomplice.”

Now Peter was looking triumphant as he stared at Neal. “It’s just like I thought. Leopards can’t change their spots.”

Jones and Diana exchanged puzzled glances. Both suspected that there was a subtext to that comment. Wisely, they kept their thoughts to themselves.

~~~~~~~~~~

 Neal arrived at the Ryan house at 7 pm that evening with two bottles of wine in his hands. He was welcomed in by Rebecca who quickly introduced herself and informed her guest that Ben was showering and would be joining them soon.

“I didn’t know what you were preparing,” Neal said with a smile as he held up the vino, “so I brought one red and one white.”

“Oh, I’ll let you pick ‘cause I wouldn’t have a clue what goes with this stuff,” Rebecca said as she led him into the kitchen and waved her hand at the granite island where a collection of raw vegetables, beans, and various colors of quinoa was arrayed. “I’ve tried to turn over a new leaf and eat healthy, but I have absolutely no idea what to do with it all. Ben claims that it’s bird food and that I’m trying to starve him to death,” she added ruefully.

Neal laughed. “The secret to making things tasty is in the spices. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

When Ben finally did materialize, he perched on a stool and watched in fascination.

“You’re like a toned-down version of that asshole chef, Gordon Ramsey,” he declared. “Rebecca watches his show all the time and then just winds up feeling inadequate in her own kitchen.”

“Oh, don’t listen to him,” Rebecca insisted. “But, tell me, Nick, how did  you learn to cook?”

“By trial and error,” Nick said modestly. “If you get hungry enough, you find a way to make things edible and flavorsome.” Neal certainly wasn’t about to tell his hosts of his stint as a sous chef in Paris when he was running a con.

The dinner was a hit, and even Ben enjoyed it. Rebecca said that she was thinking of planting her own vegetable garden next spring.

“I keep telling her not to become too attached, or to be looking too far down the road,” Ben said seriously.

“Why? Are you thinking about leaving?” Neal asked innocently.

“We just may have to,” his host claimed. “Ya see, people around here aren’t exactly what you would call friendly. We took a shot at being social and invited the couple up the street to dinner here, since the wife claimed they were remodeling. Well, that fell flat on its face, and when I returned her bowl, that remodeling story proved to be a lie. They just didn’t want us in their house.”

“Well, that’s just one couple. I’m sure everyone isn’t like that,” Neal stressed.

“C’mon, Nick. You know the drill. One person gets wind that you’ve done time and it gets spread around pretty quickly. Then, suddenly, you’ve become the neighborhood pariah. I’ll admit that I fucked up when I was younger and robbed a liquor store. But I sat in prison and completed my sentence while my wife waited for me trying to survive as best as she could. But that doesn’t matter to most people. Once a criminal, always a criminal, and nobody is going to go out on a limb and trust you because they don’t believe that you can change.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Neal agreed, thinking of Peter and his leopard.

“So, guess what?” Ben continued. “You start hanging out with the only people who can really understand and accept you—other criminals who have been there and have gone through it themselves. Maybe that’s the real reason for what the cops like to call recidivism.”

“Guys, let’s table the downer talk,” Rebecca begged. “Why don’t we go into the living room and I’ll put on some mellow old music.”

And that’s exactly what she did, and it did help everyone to relax. The tannins from the lush wine also set the mood, as a very lithe Rebecca stood up from the sofa and began swaying to the sensuous love songs. Suddenly, she was holding out her hand to Neal. “Come dance with me,” she purred with a soft smile.

When Neal cut his eyes to Ben, the other man was smiling as well. “Go ahead, Nick, you can learn some pretty good moves from my wife.”

Rebecca cupped her body close to Neal’s and her invasive leg moved between his thighs with each slow step. Neal hadn’t been with a woman in a very long time. He hadn’t been with anyone for four years in prison, and he had been faithful to Kate while he was searching for her after his release. When she died, he found that he no longer had any inclination for sex during his period of grieving. Now his young, healthy body was responding quite vigorously, and he was embarrassed.

“Sorry, sorry,” he stuttered as he held up his hands and quickly moved away.

“Don’t be,” Rebecca shushed him. “It’s only a natural reaction and Ben understands, don’t you, Honey?

“Just think of Rebecca as your therapist, Nick. Let her make you feel good for a little while,” Ben replied as he and his wife urged Neal towards the stairs.

Everyone moved as if in slow motion. After Ben and Neal watched Rebecca perform a lewd striptease, they quickly shed their own clothes as well. Rebecca’s toned and lean body undulated sensuously, and she had closed eyes and thrown back her head with abandon.

“Go ahead, take her,” Ben urged a very aroused Nick.

When Neal inched forward, Rebecca seemed to sense his body heat and a little cat smile appeared on her lips. She pushed him down on the bed and ran her hands along the muscles on his chest and down his flat stomach until he groaned and had to clench his teeth.

“Hold on, baby, there’s more to come,” she purred in his ear.

Then Rebecca did unbelievable things with her flexible body. Like a contortionist, she wrapped her legs around his neck and arched her torso backwards, letting Neal have a taste of what was to come. Just when Neal didn’t think he could hold out any longer, his seductress seemed to sense that as well. While they had been preoccupied, Ben hadn’t been idle. He had assembled condoms and lube on the small night table. Rebecca slowly rolled one onto Neal’s throbbing cock and then sank down so that he was seated deep within her hot depths. She leaned forward, placed her hands on the bed, and let Neal set the pace.

It seemed like just a nanosecond later that Neal felt the mattress sink as a bit more weight was added. He also felt Rebecca tighten around him as Ben entered her from behind. Any coherent thoughts in Neal’s head went up in smoke as erotic sensations caused each man to move to his own primal rhythm. It was Ben who came first with a shout while Rebecca moaned and writhed. Maybe Neal moaned as well, but he really wasn’t aware of anything except the explosion of his own pulsating need.

As the trio melted onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, Neal opened his eyes when he  felt Ben punch him lightly on the shoulder. “Felt good, right?”

“Yeah,” Neal panted as he tried to catch his breath, “real good.”

They cleaned up in the bathroom and then returned to the bed to lie in a satiated stupor. Neal didn’t sleep because he was too emotionally wired after the experience, but Ben and Rebecca snuggled together and closed their eyes. Neal was actually staring at the ceiling a few hours later when he became aware that they were awake and looking his way.

“Hey,” was all that he could manage since his clever tongue seemed to be taking a holiday.

“Hey, back,” Ben and Rebecca said almost in unison. It was then that Neal noticed Rebecca give Ben a glance that made the big man smile. Neal wondered what that silent communication between husband and wife meant. He was about to find out.

“How long were you in prison, Nick?” Ben asked curiously.

“Four years, give or take,” Neal answered honestly.

“Well, I did eight,” Ben informed him. “And eight years is a long time without any sex.”

“I’m not going to argue that point,” Neal conceded.

“So, during your four years upstate, did you ever play the game—you know, like, did you ever pitch or catch with another guy?” Ben asked softly.

“No, I didn’t,” Neal responded. “I was lucky to have someone on the outside who paid protection money to keep me safe from any predators.”

Ben gave this some thought. “I wouldn’t call all those men who indulged in that behavior ‘predators.’ Maybe two guys just need to find a way to release sexual tension, and they make it work. In most cases, it’s a good experience for both players. Now, I’m not saying anybody’s gay. You just have to work with what you’ve got until you can come home to your lady,” he finished as he gave Rebecca’s arm a little squeeze.

Now Neal thought he could sense where this was going, but he waited for Ben to make the first move in this delicate chess game. It didn’t take long.

“My wife gets really turned on watching men together,” Ben said slowly without any hint of awkwardness. “Maybe if you’ve never done it, that will freak you out. So, no pressure. Feel free to turn us down.”

“I’ve done it before,” Neal whispered as he thought of Vincent Adler, “or maybe I should say that I’ve had it done to me.”

“Somehow, I sense that it wasn’t exactly a pleasurable experience for you,” Rebecca said softly as she seemed to be reading Neal’s body language.

Neal simply shrugged.

“Well, just so you know, I’m always the one on top,” Ben explained, “but I’m not some crazed rutting boar. I’ll set the pace and go easy on you. I promise I’ll make it good, and you won’t be sorry.”

Neal nodded his head in silent consent, and Rebecca took that as her cue to move down to his groin and take him into her mouth. His flaccid cock responded to the sensation of her tongue teasing and titillating as she ran it around the head and licked stripes up its length. She fondled his balls, and sucked on his shaft until he was fully aroused and panting. Each time she took him too close to the edge, she’d grip the root of his cock to prevent him from coming.

Eventually, her attention focused on his anus, and her tongue began a new assault. Neal steeled himself for what was to come, expecting to feel Ben’s large fingers begin to stretch his hole. Instead, it was Rebecca’s smaller ones thickly covered with lube. She worked them in far enough to begin a languid massage of his prostate gland, and he was more aroused than ever, opening wider and wider under her controlled pulling and reaming. Finally, she moved aside as Ben stepped in to lift Neal’s legs over his shoulders.

“Slow and easy,” the large man whispered as his sheathed cock began to nudge forward an inch at a time. When Neal started to flag, Rebecca was back once again enticing his cock with her mouth. Ben was as good as his word. He was quite gentle, and his back and forth movements were unhurried as his progress continued. Minutes later, it was his girth instead of Rebecca’s fingers that was prodding Neal’s prostate. The exquisite duel sensations to hot spots both inside and outside of his body took the young man to a different place—a higher plane than he had ever reached with Vincent Adler. Unbelievably, he found himself wanting and needing more. Gripping the sheet in both of his hands, he found himself begging, “Fuck me harder, much harder.” Ben happily complied, entering faster and deeper with focused determination until, as before, the large man came with a shout. A second later, Rebecca swallowed Neal’s cum as he spewed into her mouth.

After this phenomenal encounter, Neal was totally wiped out and his limbs felt like jelly. He tried to get his breath back as he stared at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. Rebecca left the bed for a minute, then returned from the bathroom with warm washcloths. She meticulously cleaned each man with delicate hands.

“Told ya that you’d like it,” Ben said smugly.

“And I liked it, too,” his wife chimed in.

“You were right, Ben,” Neal whispered. “This was a totally new experience for me, and that was thanks to you. You guys give new meaning to the words ‘good hosts.’”

“Well, yeah,” Ben agreed with a smirk. “Rebecca and I aim to please.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It seemed as if Neal had just closed his eyes when his internal alarm clock awakened him in the dusky morning hours. Ben and Rebecca appeared to be sound asleep, so Neal quietly collected his clothes, dressed in the bathroom, and then went downstairs. He knew Rebecca’s kitchen pretty well thanks to their impromptu cooking session, so he easily located the coffee maker and made himself a cup as he sat at the island. It wasn’t long before he saw Ben’s head with its unruly mass of thick hair peek in.

“There’s enough brewed for a second cup,” Neal smiled as he pointed to the machine.

“So, you’re getting ready to leave?” Ben voiced the obvious.

“Yeah, afraid so,” Neal concurred. “I’ve got to go home, change clothes, and be at work in a few hours. I didn’t want to bother either you or Rebecca so I was going to leave a note.”

“You okay?” Ben asked with a cocked eyebrow as he, too, sat at the kitchen island with his own cup of coffee.

“I’m good,” Neal said, “maybe just a bit better than you right now.”

“How do you mean?” the other man seemed perplexed.

Neal took a deep breath and decided to step off a very high cliff. “I mean that I’m not the one at a looming crossroads, but I think you are. I also think you’re conflicted. You want to change, put down roots, and begin a new life. But, I think someone is trying to pressure you into taking a different path.”

“How did you get that vibe?” Ben asked defensively.

Neal looked up and held the other man’s gaze. “The word on the street is that someone is planning to heist some gems from a downtown hotel later this week. And the word on the street also claims that the cops are aware of the scheme and are just waiting to pounce. When someone is forewarned, it would be madness to walk into a trap. Someone may get a lot longer than eight years in a cell this time around, and I definitely wouldn’t want that to be you, Ben.”

“How do you know all this?” Ben demanded.

“I have my ways,” Neal said breezily. “But trust that my intel is accurate. You just may want to let your buddy in on this tidbit of knowledge, too—whoever he is.”

Ben let out a frustrated sigh as he came clean. “Connor Bailey, my old cellmate and the manager of that strip club, said I owed him. He made sure to protect Rebecca while I was caged up. What could I do? It wasn’t as if I really wanted to return to that life.”

“Well, if you give him this tip, then your debt should be paid in full, and you and Rebecca can enjoy this new life and not look back,” Neal urged.

A fragile few moments passed before a decision was made. “I’ll talk to him,” Ben finally promised with a grimace, “but he’s not going to be very happy.”

“He’ll get over it,” Neal said with a smile. “And, Ben, why don’t you give the lady neighbor up the street another chance. I’ll bet she’s really a nice person once you get to know her.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Even rushing, Neal barely got to the FBI building by 9 am, but it was just in time to be given the two-fingered summons by Peter. Once Neal had shut the door to Peter’s office, the irate FBI agent got right down to business.

“Neal, you’re wearing a tracking anklet, and that tells me exactly where you have been and when you were there. Imagine my surprise when I noticed that you were in my neighborhood last night—not at my house, but at another one right up the street. The Marshals didn’t alert me to that fact because the area around my house is exempted from your two-mile radius.”

“And your point is?” Neal asked guilelessly.

“What exactly were you doing at Ben Ryan’s house, Neal?” Peter was becoming agitated.

“Surveillance?” Neal hazarded a guess.

“All night long?!!!” Peter fairly shouted.

“Well, it was very close surveillance,” Neal answered cheekily.

“You are not being funny with your glib answers, Neal. This is serious. Are you colluding with that criminal in any way? You would be very foolish to throw in with his lot,” Peter warned.

“What lot would that be, Peter?” Neal asked innocently. “Perhaps you are referring to people who are in my ‘comfort zone’ and ‘right up my alley.’ You know, criminals—also known as leopards who can’t change their spots.”

Peter face had become flushed. “Right now you are skating on very thin ice, Neal. Do you really want me to throw you back in prison?”

“I’m just trying to do my job to prevent crimes from being committed,” Neal said flatly, “but you do what you need to do, Peter.”

Turning, the young CI left his handler’s office, closing the door softly behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~

At the end of the week, the gem convention extravaganza took place and not one little stone went astray. The following spring, Ben turned over the soil in the back yard of his house, and Rebecca planted her first vegetable garden. Maybe, if things grew and flourished, she might actually share some with her neighbor up the street.

**Author's Note:**

> There are two more stories in the queue before this series is finished. Coming soon.


End file.
